


Circuitry

by gveret



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 11:43:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13523556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gveret/pseuds/gveret
Summary: Lena confronts her mother. It doesn’t go so well. But maybe she doesn't really need it to, anymore.





	Circuitry

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning** for explicit discussion of past child sexual abuse.
> 
> Not related to the latest episode, I just wanted to write some abuse recovery angst. This is extremely angsty, btw. Sorry. Tread carefully.

 

 

Lena enters the nondescript apartment with her pistol at shoulder height, safety released. In her message, Lillian had insinuated in several different ways that she'd found another of Lex's little treasure troves. In general, it's more sensible to approach any meeting with Lillian as some flavor of death trap.

"Hi, mom," Lena says mildly as the door shuts silently behind her. "So nice of you to call."

Lillian, naturally, is reclined in a large leather armchair, its tall back facing the door. She turns around with perfect timing, climbing languidly to her feet.

"Lena, honey, you can put that little toy down," she says, an unnerving approximation of good-natured motherly scolding, and walks slowly closer. "I don't want to fight."

"Of course not." Lena steadies the gun with her other hand, loosens her stance. "You just want my blood."

"Well, yes, but not by _force_. I'm not going to make the mistake of _alienating_ you again," Lillian says with a pleased smile, taking another step toward Lena. Is she proud of her pun? Lena tenses. "Now that I know exactly where that drives you."

"Oh? Did you get the facebook relationship notification?"

Lillian waves away the words with a dismissive gesture. "Lena, I know we've had our… differences," she says, leaning closer to the muzzle of Lena's gun; a show not of trust so much as dominance. "But you must know that if that _creature_ were to hurt you in any way, I will always be there for you."

Anger shoots through Lena's gut, sharp and dizzying. "If you lay a single finger on her _ever_ again, I will—"

"Yes, I understand," Lillian interrupts impatiently, raising her hand. "You're not there yet. But you will be."

" _Shut up!_ " Lena snaps, the gun jerking in her hands. "How can you even think that about her! When she's the best thing in my life! When no one has _ever_ hurt me as badly as _you!_ "

Lillian draws back, neck straightening, looking genuinely shocked. "Lena," she says. Warning and reproach. This isn’t part of the game they're supposed to play.

Lena takes a shaky breath through her mouth, lowers her gun. The indignant expression on her mother's face coaxes a bitter chuckle out of her. "No, of course, I am so sorry, don't let me carry on pretending as if being raped repeatedly throughout my childhood has hurt me at all."

Lillian goes rigid at the moment that word is uttered, body seizing up as if Lena had really shot her. "Lena," she says again, steel in her voice. Lena grits her teeth against the deeply ingrained urge to comply and appease. "We both know that isn't the truth."

"You used me," Lena says. Her voice comes out too quiet. But she won't back down. "Again and again, when I didn't want it. I never wanted it."

Lena can clearly sense the moment Lillian decides to shift gears; her body language relaxes, facial muscles rearrange into an unpleasant smile. She adopts a light, unnervingly melodic tone. Lena's skin crawls almost preemptively.

"I do admire your _adorable_ knack for revisionism, Lena," Lillian says in that poisoned honey voice, "but I'm sorry to remind you, you _loved_ it. You actively sought it out. You would come up to my room, _begging_ for it."

"Yes, I did!" Lena shouts. She feels like she's going crazy, like she could fall right out of her skin. But she holds tight to her words. "After you groomed me for years! You conditioned me to seek it, made me think that was the only form of affection, of closeness I could have! You made me think that was what _love_ is, and I will never forgive you for that!"

Lillian sighs, as if suddenly exhausted, drained by Lena's unreasonable accusations. "What do you want from me, Lena? An apology? There, I apologize. Are you satisfied?"

Lena barks out a harsh laugh. "How could you possibly imagine I would be?"

Lillian closes her eyes, massages the bridge of her nose as if to ward off a headache. The picture of taxed but steadfast patience. "It’s been well over a decade, Lena. I'd hoped you'd have grown up by now."

Lena's eyebrows rise of their own accord. She hates how her body, the traitor, always reacts so expressively to her mother's manipulations. "Yes, of course," she mutters to herself. She doesn't know what she expected. "You know what, mom? I don't need an apology from you. I don't need anything from you. Thanks for reminding me of that."

Lena tucks her gun in her purse, safety back on, and turns her back deliberately on her mother. "Don't try to contact me again," she says over her shoulder.

Lillian smiles calmly back at her. "Yes, yes, I know the drill. This is how it's always been with you, Lena. _'Leave me alone, stay out of my room!'_ " she mimics a young, high pitched voice. It makes Lena's whole body shiver with revulsion. "Until the next day, when you come crawling, gagging to kiss and make up."

Lena claps a hand over her mouth. She feels sick, her stomach rolling, head swimming. She clutches her purse close to her chest and stumbles out of the room, focusing on breathing evenly through her nose.

She was going to walk out, head held high, having finally gained the upper emotional hand, said the last word, asserted her independence. How easily Lillian had undermined that. Just a gentle tap of her finger, and Lena's carefully constructed sense of self-determination comes tumbling down.

Lena somehow manages to make her way to the nearest fancy restaurant, the sort of place where the bathrooms are spacious and reasonably clean, locks herself in a stall and promptly throws up.

It was true, that's the awful thing. Everything Lillian said. Manipulative, hurtful, twisted, but true. She loved her mom. She loves her still. And back then when she'd felt completely alone, an orphan adopted into an empty house, the youngest weirdo kid in class, waiting for Lex to come back from college for a day or two every break, she'd have done anything to get so much as acknowledgement. And when Lillian had been willing to give her that, with some conditions, Lena had twisted and bent and squeezed every necessary part of herself to be able to fit them.

Lena doesn't know how long she spends sobbing as quietly as she can into her hands on the bathroom floor, but mercifully, nobody comes knocking. She empties out her wallet into the tip jar on her way out.

.

.

She goes to Kara's, of course. Where else, when she's red and puffy and on the brink of scattering away.

Kara isn't home when she gets there. The apartment is cold, the large living room window left open, its ugly flowery curtain billowing dramatically in the late winter wind. Supergirl's forgotten to close up after herself again.

"Were you raised in a barn, darling?" Lena mutters to herself as she closes the window and sweeps up the dust and debris that had blown inside. "Wasn't that your cousin?"

Lena fluffs the couch pillows, washes the few dishes in Kara's sink and pours herself a glass of water she doesn't touch, holding it listlessly instead for several minutes, staring at nothing.

She loves her mother. Hates her, too. Do these feelings cancel each other out? Is that why she feels so empty? But no, that's likely just the aftereffect of all the crying. Lena sighs, puts down the glass with a muted clink and heads for Kara's bedroom.

She kicks off her shoes at the room's threshold and throws herself into Kara's bed. The sheets stink of Kara's arousal and her unwashed skin; she hasn't changed them in a while, the blessed slob. Lena rubs her face in them gratefully, wrapping Kara's blanket around herself. If she breathes in deep and stays still just like this, she can imagine Kara pressed naked against her, warm and sticky and satisfied. She wriggles out of her pants, sinking into the comforting fantasy.

.

.

The sounds of the living room window crashing open, heavy boots thumping onto the floor snap Lena out of her loose half-daydream, half-doze. She feels her shoulders relax as those familiar footfalls approach, tension she hadn't realized she'd been holding bleeding out of her body.

"Lena?" Kara's soft, tentative voice makes an endearing contrast to her habitual Supergirl stance, feet planted and arms tensed.

"Hi," Lena greets her, voice muted, peeking at Kara from within her smelly blanket cocoon.

Kara frowns at her, radiating concern. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," Lena admits. "Come here? Get rid of the suit."

Kara strips quickly enough for her motions to blur, throws the suit carelessly aside. She takes off her underwear, too, somehow understanding Lena's need for skin to skin contact without her input. She crawls into bed next to Lena, who promptly shifts to her side to be cuddled. Kara drags up Lena's blouse to unclasp her bra and drape her arm across the length of her upper body; drags down Lena's panties, pushing Lena's ass snug against her crotch. Lena lets out a relieved, breathy moan.

"Good?" Kara asks softly, nosing at Lena's hair.

 Lena nods, grabs Kara's available hand to kiss the soft place where fingers meet palm. "Thanks."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Yeah," Lena says, but doesn't continue. Kara stays silent along with her, dragging her fingers firmly down Lena's stomach, curling around her inner thigh in a secure, comforting grip. She tugs Lena's body closer to hers again. The back of her hand presses against Lena's pussy; every bit of skin from the back of Lena's knees to her nape is in contact with Kara's.

"Mm, 's nice," Lena mumbles.

Kara says nothing, only nuzzles closer, rubbing into Lena's ass, breasts smushed up against Lena's back. She smells like wood smoke and ozone. Lena falls asleep within the span of a couple of breaths.

.

.

Lena wakes up to strong midmorning light filling up Kara's apartment. She can't remember when she'd last slept this late. Her bra is still on, undone and hanging by its straps. Her blouse has disappeared during the night, however. She can feel the warm, heavy lump of Kara beside her, weighing down the mattress.

Kara shifts closer when she notices Lena's awake. She presses a sweet kiss at the junction between Lena's neck and shoulder, sliding her hand under her loose bra to cup her breast.

"G'morning," Kara mumbles into Lena's skin.

Lena catches Kara's hand, intertwines their fingers. "I met up with my mother yesterday," she says to the sunlit window.

"Oh," Kara says. Lena feels her shake her head, maybe in an attempt to wake herself up. Possibly this isn't the best timing, but there's never a need for tact with Kara.

"She's been a fugitive for over a year, no contact whatsoever, then suddenly it's ' _Oh, Lena, my darling daughter, how have you been? Would you care to give me a bit more of your blood, sweetie pie?'_ " Lena gives her impression of Lillian a southern accent for no good reason. It makes Kara laugh, though, so the choice is justified. "I went anyway. I wanted to prove how little control she has over me now, how much I've grown without her."

Kara makes an encouraging noise, squeezes Lena's hand.

Lena sighs. "Predictably, it backfired."

Kara places another tender kiss on the slope of Lena's neck, noses at her nape. "Lena, I'm sorry," she says very quietly. "I hate how she's hurt you."

Lena lets out a harsh breath. "It's fine," she says, rubbing at her face. "Anything you can live through, you can live with."

Kara stays silent for a while, caressing the back of Lena's hand with her thumb. "I don't think I agree with that," she says finally.

"Oh?" Lena turns to look at her, surprised. "But you've lived through so much more than me."

"Um, no, I don't—I don't mean what you've been through is too much to live with, Rao, Lena, of course not, I just," Kara stumbles, frowning. "It doesn't have to be fine, just because you survived. I mean, it's okay to hurt. Sorry. I'm still waking up."

Lena settles back, deeper into Kara's embrace. "Mm," she mutters, noncommittal but considering.

"I think it's just a harsh way of thinking," Kara continues gently. "It's a very macho attitude."

Lena twists to stare at her again, feeling an unexpected but welcome smirk tugging at her lips. "You think I have a _macho attitude_?"

Kara ignores her teasing completely. "Oh, Lena, I'm just saying," she says, entirely earnest, intent and beautiful. "You can lean on me."

As if she isn’t, hasn’t been doing just that all this time.

"You _are_ very solid." Lena taps her chin, pretending to weigh her options.

Kara nods seriously. "Comfy, too."

"Mm." Lena flops over in Kara's arms, allowing her full weight to rest on top of Kara, abandoning the charade.

Kara hugs her around the middle and shifts to lie flat on her back, dragging Lena along. "Do you have to be somewhere today?"

"Nope." Lena kisses Kara's breast and pushes herself up to straddle her lap. "Isn't it considerate of me to schedule my emotional breakdowns for the weekend?"

Kara is already flushing adorably. "Do you wanna…?"

"Oh, please, you know I don't plan to move a single centimeter from this stinky bed today."

Kara frowns up at her. "What? It's not stinky."

"Weren't you supposed to be the one with the super senses?"

Kara tuts. "It's _aromatic_."

Lena laughs delightedly. "Gross!"

"I guess if you want me to change the sheets…"

Lena grabs hold of Kara's wrists. "Don't you dare."

Kara performs a crunch to be able to kiss Lena without freeing her arms. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Lena says, guiding Kara's wrists above her head and grinding down lightly on her beautifully tensed abs. "You and all your aromas."

 

 


End file.
